


Champions Of The Just

by Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind



Series: The Random Disconnected DA Creativity Galore [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Awkwardness, Bromance, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-14 14:32:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5747959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind/pseuds/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duncan never did find Alistair. With a great deal of effort he had passed his Vigil, landing him a place by his best friend's side as a full - fledged templar at Kinloch Hold. But the days of comfort are short - lived and soon enough the life will take them both in two very different directions.</p><p>(A short multi - chaptered continuation of 'That Day We Met')</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Of Girls and Cheese

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladyvodka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyvodka/gifts).



> It was demanded of me to do more bromance of Alistair and Cullen. I decided to oblige. The idea was too long to be a one - shot and so I expect it to be about 4 chapters of content.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always welcome. Obviously, if deserved. ^^
> 
> I hope you will enjoy this as much as I do.

"Rutherford, Guerrin! Rise and shine, you lazy arses!" a loud pounding on the door forced Alistair to roll out of bed, blindly groping for his breeches. A groan from Cullen's side of the room had been the only reaction. Alistair was not keen on missing yet another breakfast and so he grabbed Cullen's blanket and, in one swift motion, ripped it off the bed, allowing cold air to penetrate the cocoon his friend had made around himself during the night. Cullen was a real princess sometimes, his constant complaining about how cold it was in the Tower had lost its novelty long ago. On several occasions Alistair had pointed out that _he_ used to live in the stables all year long, to which Cullen would just purse his lips and fall silent. Until the next time a draft swept past, making him shiver.

"To the Void with you!" Cullen growled, throwing a pillow in his friend's face, anger and hurt burning in his eyes. "Third time this week, Alistair!"

"And today I actually plan to get to the dining hall in time for breakfast. Alvin said they will serve us some fancy cheese," Alistair had donned the chainmail skirt, fastening the heavy purple material on top of it. The sun had to be in the middle or the Knight - Captain would have his head. "And you know me, I am _all_ about cheese."

Cullen dragged himself out of bed and quickly splashed some water in his face with one hand, while searching for the towel with another.

"Oh and it is your only chance to glare at Apprentice Surana." the redhead said slyly and made kissing noises as he continued tying the leather straps on his breastplate. That had earned him a slap with a wet towel on his ear.

"Get back to me when you are done slobbering over Apprentice Amell." had been Cullen's reply, as he continued jumping around the room and gathering his clothes.

Alistair was now fastening own pauldrons, watching his friend getting ready. Even though Cullen had tendency to oversleep, he could easily compensate that with donning an armor within a very short period of time. Unlike Alistair, who now had a gruelling task of trying to fish out the right gauntlet from under his bed, all that while being fully clad in iron.

***

Despite the setback, they had arrived at the dining hall in time, settling down at their usual place as Mary, one of the Tranquil, put a bowl of steaming porridge, bread and fruit in front of them. Alistair, of course, went straight for the cheese platter and gobbled down what pitiful remains were left. Cullen had decided to ignore the fact his friend did not offer him any. Alistair, after all, _did_ love his cheese.

"Here be our Sleeping Beauties," a short templar with straw - coloured hair and pale blue eyes settled down across them, a half - eaten apple in his hand.

"Owen." Cullen nodded and went back to his meal.

"You do realise Knight - Captain will have your heads for missing the morning line-up?" Owen had finished with the apple and grabbed a piece of rye bread from Alistair's plate. The redhead shot him an angry stare but could not object, his mouth full.

"I had been assigned the night rotation this week," Cullen grumbled and stabbed the contents of his bowl with a spoon. Whoever was the cook, they were bad at it. "I slept, maybe, eight hours in three days."

"As if Knight - Captain cares," Owen snickered and propped his cheek with an armored fist. "But he _had_ revealed the list of the Harrowings soon to happen."

Alistair prodded Cullen with an elbow, masterfully hitting him right between the armor plates. The young man hissed and averted his gaze from two women, who were sitting in the mage part of the dining hall.

"What?!" he barked irritably and Alistair had arched an eyebrow - he knew perfectly well who his friend had been staring at. Cullen, ashamed by his outburst, shifted uncomfortably and looked at the templar across them. "You were saying?"

"Harrowings, Goldilocks. I thought the knowledge of Surana undergoing hers next week would be of an interest to you."

The fact that the nickname Alistair had given him got so wide - spread gnawed on Cullen. He wanted to retort in kind, but then the second part of the speech sunk in and the spoon with the tasteless porridge froze mid - air.

"S - Surana's Harrowing? Are you sure?" his eyes darted towards the delicate elven woman in the farthest corner of the hall. "Who will stand guard?"

"Rumour has it," Owen answered, his eyes gleaming with cheek. "It's you two."

Cullen exhaled loudly and Alistair imitated yet another kissing sound, making Owen snort and earning a whack on the back of his head. Cullen, once again, turned his attention to the elven mage. She was laughing now, her doe eyes, the colour of indigo, sparkling with joy. He could not see if it was really so, but Cullen had a good imagination. He saw her brush away a few ash - blond strands from her face, as she smiled at the young red - haired woman next to her. To attend her Harrowing would be both a dream and a nightmare come true. To see her become a full - fledged Enchanter, to witness the hapiness wash over her beautiful features... But what if she fails? Alistair would have to strike her down. Or worse, _he_ himself would have to deliver the final blow. The mere thought made him sick to his stomach.

"And Amell?" Alistair mumbled shyly, covering his mouth with his hand as if he was scared somebody seeing him saying the mage's name.

"Tough luck, brother Alistair," Owen clicked his tongue and stood up. "Stefan and Oliver will be handling her," he paused for a moment, thinking. "Oh and yes, the Knight - Captain asked both of you to come to his quarters. And I use the term 'asked' loosely."

They both watched Owen go and Cullen sighed heavily, dropping his face in his hands. Last time the Knight - Captain had _asked_ for them, it resulted in polishing every sword and shield in the armory.

_... Maker, let it not be the latrines this time..._


	2. Of Girls And Duty

Maker, if he knew templar life would be _this_ , he might have reconsidered. No! No he would not. Mages needed people like him. To support, to help. So what if the daily duties are boring? Vigilance was everything. Vigilance - 

"Enchanter Surana," Alistair's voice echoed down the hallway. "Allow me to congratulate you on the successful Harrowing."

Cullen inhaled sharply and straightened his back. She would come this way. Maker, she would pass _him_ by. Maybe even strike a conversation. They had never talked before. Mages and templars rarely talked to each other, for fraternizing was frowned upon. Especially with Apprentices. But she was the Enchanter now. He could talk to her. Somewhat. Right?

" - that way, Enchanter." there was a trace of cheek in Alistair's voice and Cullen had decided he will kill his friend the next time opportunity presents itself.

Andraste be kind, she is _coming_! Is he blushing? He better not be blushing! Reciting the Chant always helps. Quick, Canticle of Silence!

"Ser Cullen?"

Cullen's eyes shot open, both cheeks and ears on fire, and he lowered his gaze to look at the woman before him.

_... Maker preserve me!..._

"Appren -, ah, Enchanter Surana," he mumbled, fighting the urge to blend into the nearby wall. "I am glad that you - I mean your Harrowing... That it went fine."

Cullen hated himself right now. Smalltalk had never been his strongest virtue. Years of social interaction had smoothed up his shyness when it came to the fellow templars. However, given the chance, he would revert back to his old stuttering ways when facing the unknown. He _knew_ Alistair would be eavesdropping and the thought made Cullen blush even more, in frustration this time.

"Ser Alistair said you stood guard during my Harrowing," Surana smiled gently and searched for his eyes. Cullen saw that and made an extra attempt to look anywhere else but at her. "I wanted to thank you."

"That's just my duty Ner - miss," he bit his tongue, realizing her name had almost slipped from his lips. It was not uncommon for templars to know the names of their charges but to the mages most of their silent guards were unfamiliar. "I am v- very glad that - that it did not come to, you know, abominations."

_... This can't be happening! I did not just say that!..._

"I'm so sorry," Cullen blurted out, heat on his cheeks becoming unbearable. "I should have not - "

"It's okay, Ser Cullen." Surana smiled brightly, sparks of amusement dancing in her indigo eyes. "I'm glad it was you."

"Oh."

They both fell silent with Surana watching him and Cullen rubbing his neck, clueless as how to proceed.

"I know you often watch me. Not like the rest of the templars do... Solona noticed it first." the elf whispered shyly. "She said it is a bit creepy but I think it is very cute."

"I'm sorry, I don't - I'm sorry!" the feeling of utter dread washed over him and Cullen shifted nervously, looking down the hallway. "I - I should _go._ "

The last words were said as Cullen turned around and started walking at a brisk pace, trying to keep some of his dignity intact. As soon as he turned around the corner, however, Cullen started running, zooming past Alistair and disappearing behind one of the doors, breathing heavily. Thoughts raced in his head and Cullen pressed the armored fist to his forehead, feeling the cool of the iron slowly chasing away the insufferable heat building within. She talked to him and he had made a huge fool of himself, giving Alistair the full satisfaction of watching him flee from a woman. On top of that, unlike his friend, Cullen was _not_ a virgin anymore, which made it all the merrier. Alistair had sharp tongue, a certain charm and fondled his share of women but none of them had been 'The One'. Could Neria be 'The One' for him, Cullen wondered. Is that what it felt like? The butterflies in the stomach, becoming a stuttering mess in front of the woman one fancies? So many questions.

_... And no - one to answer them. Sure as Void not going to ask Alistair. The man had been provided with enough entertainment to last him for weeks..._

Cullen sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, before pushing the door open and peeking into the hall.

***

"The Warden is here. The Warden - _Commander_ of Ferelden himself!" Alistair whispered frantically as he approached Cullen, who had been busy oiling his armor on his day off. Unarmored templars were not allowed to leave their floor, save for emergencies. Alistair was free as well, for templars were often assigned to the duties in pairs - the bonds were forged upon the arrival of the freshly initiated templars to the Tower and were rarely broken. That allowed the members of the Order to work together, to support and to learn from their partner.

"The Wardens are still in Ferelden?" Cullen's eyebrows flew up. Unlike Alistair he was not very interested in shady ancient warrior orders. His friend, however, could gush for hours about a warden that had slain Dumat or point precisely on the map where the Third Blight had taken root. However, when faced with a question about joining the heroic ranks, if the possibility presents itself, Alistair would pull his head in his shoulders and almost inaudibly whisper a 'no'. According to him, he was too pretty for the Deep Roads.

"For shame, Cullen. I thought you smart," Alistair shook his head and crossed hands on his chest. "They were allowed back into Ferelden about twenty years ago."

"Forgive me for actually reading _useful_ books." Cullen grumbled and wedged the oil cloth between a particularly inaccessible part of the gauntlet.

"You read books about uninteresting people."

"I read books about famous military leaders and their accomplishments, Alistair. This allows me to reverse - engineer their strategies, based upon - "

His friend made a loud snoring sound and waved with his hand dismissively.

"Cullen, buddy, you bore the stones in these very walls. You should get out more."

"Back to that Warden of yours." the blond quickly changed the theme of the conversation. Cullen was not in the mood to, yet again, watch Alistair shame him on his hermit tendencies.

The redhead pushed the breastplate away and settled down on the bench next to Cullen, outstretching his legs with a grunt.

"I saw him talking with both Irving and Greagoir and I think he might have noticed me, because the man turned in my direction," Alistair fell silent for a moment, frowning and chewing on his bottom lip. "His face... I swear it looked familiar, from a very long time ago. Might have seen him back at Redcliffe?"

"Is he recruiting?

"He needs mages for the King's army, I heard."

"King's army?" it was Cullen's turn to frown, as he absentmindedly twirled the dirty oil cloth in his fingers.

"Maybe a new Blight?" Alistair shrugged his shoulders. "Why else would he be actively searching for the desperate and the needy?"

Cullen said nothing, looking at his friend's face instead. The cheery demeanour had now been replaced by something else. He could not put his finger on it, but Cullen knew Alistair long enough to see it had been gnawing on his friend.

"What's wrong?"

"Solona wants to go. She wants to be a Warden." Alistair whispered, clenching his fists and staring at his feet.

Cullen's eyebrows flew up in surprise.

"She hates it here," Alistair continued dully. "She wants to matter. To be free."

"Why would she hate it? It is her home," Cullen sounded quite confused. "Mages are cared for, watched over, assisted in any way they require - "

" _Hovered_ over, Cullen. Badgered by rules and restrictions," Alistair stood up and started pacing back and forth. "Andraste, there are guards even near the _privy_! For, obviously, the biggest amount of abominations happen when you are relieving yourself."

"Maybe you should stop listening to what a _mage_ tells you." Cullen answered irritably, his patience at an end. Their opinions on religion and magic had been very different and both knew to avoid the discussion on the subject for it would always result in argument.

"Blessed are the _ignorant_ , the champions of the just," Alistair recited dramatically, throwing an angry stare at his friend and sighing heavily. "I envy you, Cullen. You never question. Never wonder if there is more to the things Chantry feeds you every day. What if mages are needlessly demonized? What if the lyrium we take is nothing but a way to keep us in line?"

The latter had been indeed a well - known method of punishing any kind of disobedience. Cullen had never been made to skip a week of lyrium but he had seen Alistair suffer the effects more then once. In a way, it had been a punishment to both. The unaffected templar was strictly forbidden to share the lyrium with their companion, their own supply under a strict supervision for the duration of the punishment.

"Alistair," Cullen stood up and put the hand on his friend's shoulder. "We have our duty. It _always_ comes first."

A tentative humm had been the only reply Cullen got.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is full of delicious headcanons. Even though Alistair is Chandler Bing of Dragon Age, behind that facade hides a curious mind full of questions. You just have to dig very deep :P
> 
> As to Cullen, before the Kirkwall uprising, I picture him to be a perfect soldier - never questioning, just doing his job as well as possible and, unless shoved in his face, not taking any action. 
> 
> Some frivolties, regarding the conscription of Amell were taken but the general idea stays the same. Omnious clouds are gathering and soon enough everything will come crashing down.


	3. Of Girls And Choices

In utter despair Alistair watched his fellow templars barring the doors that led to the first floor of the Circle Tower. When the panic had started, the orders were clear - the priority was to round up and secure the mages, just as it had always been. Only this time they ran into demons and abominations, that were popping like deep mushrooms from every nook and cranny, throwing the templars off guard and effectively hounding them into small groups. Alistair had lost sight of Cullen and had to fall back with the rest, as per Knight - Commander's order. Only a handful had made it out of the Tower, meaning the majority of the templars and plenty of mages were still trapped on the upper floors. No one could coherently explain what had happened or where the First Enchanter was, and so the Knight - Commander had decided to presume everyone dead, until proven otherwise. However, _if_ proven otherwise, the Rite of Annulment was to be invoked, for the demonic presence in the Tower had been an extremely troubling development. 

The hours trickled by. The screams on the other side had seized long ago but the doors stayed barred - the reinforcement requested by the Knight - Commander Greagoir were nowhere in sights, leaving the remaining templars unable to proceed. Alistair remembered being exhausted, the man have even slept a bit - his proficiency in power naps was legendary. This time round, however, a familiar feeling of magic tore him out of the delirious haze. It was _her_ magic, Alistair knew it well enough. But Solona had left the Tower months ago and she could not possibly... He lifted his head, picture coming into focus and held back a gasp. It _was_ her - a tall red - haired woman in, what looked like, a chainmail armor with griffon sigil on it. Alistair blinked and came closer, trying to listen to the conversation between her and the Knight - Commander, while eying the rest of Solona's party. She was accompanied by two women - a tall one with raven - black hair and piercing amber eyes and a petite redhead with grey eyes, bow on her back. A rogue then. The brunette, however, drew his attention. He would call her beautiful, if not for a badly veiled discontent, plastered permanently on her face. The staff had been just a confirmation - the strong aura, emitting from the young woman, made all the templars shift uncomfortably. A mage. And a very powerful one, at that.

"I apologise, Warden Amell, but I cannot allow that, the Tower is off - limits."

"I came to help, Knight - Commander," she spoke softly, leaning on her staff. "If you let me in, I can assess the situation, search for survivors and bring them back to you."

"With all due respect, Warden, but as a mage, you and," the man cleared his throat and shot a stare at the dark - haired woman. "Your companions might be in the imminent danger of possession."

The second mage scoffed dismissively and crossed her arms. Alistair, on the other hand, saw his chance and stepped forward, waving his hand tentatively and attracting the attention of both parties.

"I volunteer to accompany the party inside the Tower," he paused and straightened his back. "Ser."

"Alistair," the doubt in the Knight - Commander's voice was almost palpable, making the temptation to hide in the dark corner almost irresistible. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. There might _still_ be people inside. Both templars and mages. I swear, I am starting to grow roots here. A change of scenery _and_ being helpful? Sign me up."

_...Cullen might still be alive..._

The Knight - Commander rubbed his forehead and sighed.

"As you wish. I will let you through on two conditions - firstly, you will differ for judgement to Ser Alistair, should you be compromised in any way," the man crossed his arms. " And secondly, bring me the First Enchanter Irving. I will believe his word and his word _only_."

"We have a deal, then." Solona nodded in acknowledgement and watched the Knight - Commander give his templars the order to let the party through. As Alistair walked past Greagoir, the man grabbed him by the shoulder and, when Alistair turned around, handed to him a small satchel.

"Extra lyrium," the Knight - Commander said sternly. "You might need it."

Alistair nodded and squeezed out a 'thank you', as he joined the rest of the group ahead, heavy oak doors slamming shut behind them.

***

Two more stairwells separated them from the Harrowing Chamber. And there still was no sign of Cullen. Alistair had feverishly inspected every templar - dead, alive or _otherwise_ \- that the party came across. Many were badly burned beyond recognition and Alistair prayed to the Maker none of them was Cullen. Solona was searching too - any mage could be Neria, but so far she had no luck finding her either. Alistair felt exhausted. Mentally, above all. At some point they had stumbled upon Gustav, a templar he knew well enough. The man had been under a spell of a desire demon and the choice had to be made, in hope that killing the demon would end the spell. It did not. Gustav's mind was far too gone and he continued attacking, forcing Leliana, the red - haired rogue, to put him out of his misery.  
Solona was walking ahead. She knew the Tower just as good as Alistair did, which allowed him to follow the correct procedures and cover the flanks, while keeping his eyes on the mages. After Senior Enchanter Wynne has joined the group, the mage to templar ratio was not in his favour and it made Alistair slightly uncomfortable. He trusted Wynne and Solona but witch - looking one, Morrigan, made his skin crawl.

As they climbed the stairs, the sense of hostile magic washed over Alistair. He could see the mages felt it too - Solona's face was determined, while Wynne looked concerned. Morrigan, on the other hand, was unreadable both in her face and in magic. The foul feeling had intensified as they entered a small chamber at the top of the stairwell and people in front had stopped abruptly. Someone gasped. Alistair pushed past everyone and froze on the spot. The room looked like a battlefield - mangled bodies of templars, mages and _things_ were scattered all over the ground. The sickening purple glow was illuminating the horrors, making Alistair look to his right. Someone had cast a magical prison over several templars at the bottom of the stairs. The residual energy hung heavy in the air, implying the men and women tried to break out and failed. At least five lifeless bodies were sprawled on the floor but that was not what made Alistair shiver in both horror and relief - by the small broken body of an elven mage, a longsword buried deep in her chest, sat a templar. His hands were firmly wrapped around the hilt of the sword, shoulders heaving.

_...Maker, that hair..._

"Neria!" Solona's cry was but a sob.

"Cullen!"

The templar's head jerked upwards, the motion sweeping away the sweat drenched hair and exposing Cullen's dirty blood - stained face. His cheeks were wet from tears and, as his gaze met Alistair's, nothing but maddening horror was in his eyes. His friend stood up and when his hands left the sword, Alistair saw that he was shaking like a leaf.

"Cullen, buddy, talk to me!" he stepped as close to the magic prison as possible, remembering not to touch it. Cullen, however, took a step back, terror in his face as his trembling hand helplessly searched for the non - existent sword at his side.

"Alistair... Is that you?" he muttered. "No... You are one of them, aren't you? Like she was, like they made her to be!" the muttering quickly grew into shrieking and Cullen backed further away, clawing at his scalp.

"Poor boy, they tortured him. The demonic presence lingers still." Wynne spoke quietly.

"I don't care what they did to him," Solona snarled, anger flashing in her emerald eyes. "He killed my friend!"

"He would not do that, Sol," Alistair tried to calm her down. "You know how he felt about -"

"She came to me. She said things, showed things,"Cullen started mumbling again, staring at the floor. "They sent Neria... I had to finish what they started, it was _not_ right!"

Solona bristled and her magic flared up, making Cullen, once again, jerk his head upwards. This time, however he pursed his lips together, looking concentrated and relatively sane.

"Did the Knight - Commander send you?" he barked as his eyes drifted to Alistair's companions. " _Mages._ "

Alistair tried very hard ignoring almost palpable hate in his friend's voice and smiled curtly, trying to look calm and keep Cullen's attention away from the group.

"He did. We are here to recover the First Enchanter and to look for survivors."

"Survivors?" Cullen's laughter was hoarse and unnerving. "I am _all_ there is left. Uldred took the mages to the Harrowing Chamber and trapped the remaining templars here. The screams had stopped long ago," his voice broke. "But I can - I _still_ hear them in my head."

"We'll get the First Enchanter and - "

"And _what_? All mages had been compromised!" the volume of Cullen's voice started to climb up again, fingers twitching rhythmically. " Mages did this! To _our_ friends! For once in your damn life, do the right thing. Do your _duty_ , Maker take you!"

"My duty does not involve slaughtering innocents, Cullen!" Alistair raised his voice in agitation.

"There are no _innocents_ , there never were," his friend hissed, face contorted in anger and desperation. "Mages are a disaster waiting to happen, cancer upon Thedas and we _coddle_ them instead of putting these - these _things_ where they -"

" _Enough!_ " Amell barked out, making both men fall silent. "We are done here and we proceed as planned. Alistair?"

The redhead sighed and looked at Cullen, who came closer, vague hope in his tired amber eyes.

"I am sorry, I cannot do what you ask... It is not right."

"No one ever listens, not until it's far too late..." the blond whispered, his glare growing dull and distant as he hung his head in defeat.

***

Solona and her companions were preparing to leave. After some deliberation between the Knight - Commander and the First Enchanter, it had been decided that the Circle was safe to re-open for the restoration. Watching the red - haired woman smiling and chatting, reminded Alistair how much he missed her presence. After everything that had happened, he felt physically sick at the mere thought of staying in the Circle and thus, his eyes still on Solona, Alistair made his way to the Knight - Commander. He crept closer and cleared his throat carefully.

"What is it?" the older templar turned around, making Alistair panic a bit - being shorter then most had always been intimidating, especially when the tall people were also your superiors.

"I, ah, would like to ask your permission to accompany Warden Amell on her journey."

"Considering your help, I have no reason to deny your request." Greagoir smiled softly and Irving, who was standing nearby nodded in agreement.

"I think it would be beneficial for - Oh!" Alistair had dozens of reasons ready and was caught off guard. "Thank you."

"I will issue a letter you can show at any Chantry when you need to refill your lyrium supply."

Almost skipping from joy, Alistair headed to Solona to let her hear the good news but halfway he stopped, his attention drawn to a lone figure in a corner. Cullen's eyes were red and puffy and he pressed his arms to his chest, clutching the fingers tight in a futile attempt to stop the involuntary tremors. 

"Cullen -," he reached out to his friend but was taken aback by the stare the templar had given him.

"You - _You._ " the tone in his voice made Alistair step backwards. "Everything we are, what _you_ are... You threw away your code, your duty. For a _mage_ with a pretty face."

"Please, listen to me!" Alistair pleaded. The things Cullen said were hurtful and it took every bit of self - restraint he had not to throw a fit. "It wasn't -"

"I did _so_ much for _you_ to be here. So you would not be alone. So poor lonely Alistair had a friend. I _always_ had your back." Cullen's lip lifted in a sneer. "It turns out you never had mine."

An angry cry left Alistair's mouth as he planted the armored fist in Cullen's jaw so hard, his teeth clanked together. The blond yelped and grabbed his face with a painful grimace. 

"Enough, both of you," the First Enchanter stepped forward and held his hand in front of Cullen's face for a moment. "Sleep."

A soft light emitted from his palm and the man's eyes rolled back as he lost consciousness, one of the templars catching him before he hit the ground. Alistair watched how two men carried Cullen away, his heart heavy with both fury and regret.

"The arrangements will be made for him," the Knight - Commander's voice came from behind. "We pray for his recovery but he will never be the same again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really looking forward to this chapter.To break Cullen, to see his personality flip and PTSD taking roots at that very moment was interesting to explore and I hope I did it justice.
> 
> And this, the bromance shatters in the bajillion tiny pieces. Because happy endings, who needs them? But wait, there will be and Epilogue, so who knows!
> 
> Also, I am not a fan of putting in-game dialogue in. I make my own dialogues! With blackjack. And hookers!
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are very welcomed and loved. Stay cool.


	4. Epilogue: Of Men And Friendship

Cullen stared blankly at the paper and then back at the Spymaster.

"He requests _my_ presence alongside the Inquisitor?"

"Yes," Leliana nodded and eyed the Commander carefully. She was well aware of his issues with this. "There is no way we can deny a request from the King himself, you will have to go to Redcliffe. As the Commander of the Inquisition's forces, your input is quite important."

Cullen sighed and stared at the accursed parchment, wishing it would set itself on fire. Ten years had passed since he last saw Alistair. They parted on bad terms and soon after Cullen had transferred to Kirkwall, using the opportunity to sever all ties with Ferelden, own family included. As soon as the Inquisition had become a force to be reckoned with, his anonymity had come to an end and it was just a matter of time, before the King of Ferelden would try to flush Cullen out.

"Inquisitor can perfectly fine negotiate an alliance without -"

"Cullen," Leliana interrupted him, grey eyes like daggers, as she crossed her arms." We both know it is not the alliance Alistair wants to discuss. Man up, you had been hiding long enough."

He kept forgetting Leliana was at Kinloch Hold. She saw him at his worst that day - unstable, agitated and desperate. The things he had said to the Hero of Ferelden and to his best friend, they still haunted Cullen every waking moment. Now that he had left lyrium behind, the nightmares came back full - force, making Cullen relive those horrible moments over and over again. He often regretted giving up the only thing that kept the horrors at bay.  
Leliana noticed Cullen shaking and came closer, putting a hand on his shoulder. She alone understood why he functioned the way he did.

"There are no mages there... Right?" he muttered, trying to calm himself down by reciting the Chant in his head. A little trick the sisters of the Greenvalley Recluse had taught him to help divert the attention away from an upcoming panic attack.

"Mage - free, Commander."

He sighed in relief. The events in the Ferelden Circle of Magi left a permanent mark on Cullen. On a rational level he grew past his issues with the mages. Subconsciously, however, their presence in his close proximity made Cullen nervous, often inducing mild anxiety attacks. He could hide elevated heartbeat and tremors in his hands well enough but it was exhausting. After the events in Redcliffe, Haven was filled with mages and going about his day had suddenly become a tantalizing task. Mages, in turn, felt uncomfortable around _him_ , the Inquisitor included. She asked him once, why he spends most of their council meetings with hands clutched around the pommel of his sword. It took Cullen about a minute of stuttering to come up with a proper excuse, that would not offend her. She let it slide, for the sake of cooperation but it did not help much with the stiff interaction between the two of them.

"Right. I can do this." he said, giving Leliana a sheepish smile.

"You are more then just your fears, Commander." she answered grinning, and patted him on the back.

***

Alistair paced up and down the room, holding a missive in his hand, its text almost etched in his mind. Anora followed him with her eyes, both curious and amused. She had rarely seen her husband this agitated.

"Alistair, stop. You are making me queasy." she pursed her lips together in a half - baked attempt to make him quit zooming around. In truth, she was happy to see him this way - the kingship was weighting heavily on him and, as much as she tried to relieve his burden, it had never been enough.

"I am sorry," the redhead answered and re-read the crumpled piece of paper again. "I just can't believe he is coming. I would never think him agreeing... Not after the way we parted."

"Being the King has its privileges, enjoy this one." Anora smiled as she watched Alistair's face lighten up with joy. In many ways he reminded her of Cailan - the atrocious humour, the face, the childish innocence. But unlike her previous husband, Alistair was aware of the world around him and, instead of slacking from his duty as the King, tried to offer input to the best of his ability. They had grown close in the past decade - not as lovers, but as friends. Alistair needed her support and council, while his easy - going nature, in turn, uplifted her.

"They will be here by nightfall," Anora stood up and walked towards the door. "Shall I call Ollie to help you get ready?"

"Maker, woman," Alistair grumbled and crossed his arms, a spark of laughter in his eyes. "I thought by now you've learned I can dress myself _just_ fine."

"Shall I remind you the times you've forgotten your crown? Or the mantle?"

"Are you that sure I had _forgotten_?" he grinned boyishly. "I do not care about fashion but even _I_ think the mantle is a crime against... Everything, really." 

"Well alright, no mantle. But the crown is mandatory," Anora laughed and opened the door, giving her husband one last piece of valuable advice before leaving. "Rest a bit. This might prove to be more strenuous then you think."

***

They had arrived late in the evening and were greeted by both the King and the Queen. The negotiations would not be happening today but both Cullen and the Inquisitor were invited for a late supper. He was not hungry at all but declining would be impolite and so he spent most of the time picking at his food, praising the Maker that nobody tried to talk to him. When the supper - that lasted, for what seemed like an eternity - had ended, Cullen sighed in relief and slid back into the shadows, hoping to hide in his room till tomorrow. 

As the Commander had approached his quarters, he saw a servant had been waiting for him. She took a bow and said that the King would like to speak to him, making Cullen exhale, feeling cold beads of sweat rolling down his spine. The hope that Alistair would leave him alone had been feeble, he knew the man _too_ well. Ten years had passed, of course, but some things never change. 

Cullen held his breath as he knocked on the massive door of the King's study.

"Enter."

***

Alistair lifted his head up and and put a paper he was reading aside. One of Leliana's little birds had it delivered to him prior to the Inquisitor's visit but he did not open the package. The man in the doorway shifted uncomfortably, eyes on the ground. 

"You look well," Alistair said, eying the Commander. A great conversation opener. _Usually._

"You know as much as I do that it is a lie." Cullen sighed and the King had to admit he was right.

Cullen had changed. He looked sickly, somehow - pallid skin and tired amber eyes that were darting all over the place, so that the Commander did not have to look at him. Back in the main hall Alistair saw Cullen keeping his distance from the Inquisitor - not far enough to breach the etiquette but fairly noticeable to the trained eye, the Commander's hands constantly resting on the hilt of his sword. 

"I am glad you came," Alistair broke the heavy silence and looked at the man that used to be his friend. "I thought that maybe - Well, that you might -" he fell silent, feeling extremely awkward.

Cullen sighed and had finally lifted his face to meet the King's gaze.

"As the Commander of the Inquisition's forces it is my duty to accompany the Inquisitor, if military discussions are to be held. And I came," the blond paused, fingers snaking nervously through his neatly styled hair. "To talk... I guess. For, ah, closure."

When Alistair said nothing Cullen started to fidget, looking around nervously. The man inhaled and exhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment.

"At the Ferelden Circle things were said," the Commander started quietly, his face suddenly becoming unreadable, as if he had put on a mask. But the eyes had betrayed him - full of worry and old pain. Alistair almost wanted to stop him from talking, to let Cullen avoid the discomfort of opening old wounds. "That were harsh and hurtful... That were - I was not myself, I -"

Cullen fell silent and started trembling, fingers most of all. Just like all those years ago, he pressed the hands to his chest, hoping to calm the tremors down. Alistair could not watch him anymore.

"Enough, Cullen," he said softly and came closer, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. "Don't go back there. Past should stay where it belongs."

"But I need to -," the Commander ran a hand over his face and sighed. "I was a bad friend, Alistair. What I said to you was wrong. _Cruel_. You came back for me that day and I did not see it. _Could_ not see it."

Alistair walked back to his table and picked up a small leather tube, showing it to the Commander.

"Leliana sent me this," he said simply. "It contains all the information she had gathered on you, including Kinloch Hold _and_ Kirkwall. I did not open it." he added hastily when he saw Cullen frowning. "Here, have it. We can talk about when you are ready."

Cullen reached out hesitantly but then dropped his arm, shaking his head slowly.

"Read it. If you know... Then, perhaps, I will be able to... share. In time," he paused and looked at the King, voice cracking slightly. "Some things stay hidden still."

Alistair outstretched his arm and so did Cullen, curling his fingers around the other man's forearm in a greeting that had been theirs since the time the two had met.

"It is good to have you back, old friend." the redhead smiled roguishly.

And for the first time in a very long while Cullen felt as if some of the great weight had lifted off his shoulders. That, perhaps, he could still heal. In time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus the bromance had come to an end. And to a new beginning. Always good, that.
> 
> I decided to keep this story short and I very much enjoyed writing it. It had been refreshing to create something that does not have LI in the main equation. Aka BROMANCE. We need more of that in our lives.
> 
> Whoever read this, I hope you liked it. Comments and kudos are always loved and appreciated. ^^
> 
> Stay awesome, beautiful people :3


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